NonSequitor
by mCat2
Summary: An experiment.
1. Default Chapter

  
  
Fourteen years?, Umbridge sounded sinisterly amused, but it seems like much longer. Ron's lips rose involuntarily.  
  
  
Tinkerbell would have had a hard time beating the reflective, white knuckled tension in the room. Hermione's faultless hearing, and frenetic, compulsory attention to detail heard what Harry's red blurred vision could not.   
  
  
Umbridge and Snape smiled at each other, something that would have appeared mildly conspiritorial to some, but what Hermione knew to be an icy disregard, and some hate in Snape's expression, and a amiphibious gloat in Umbridge.   
  
  
I see, she said, tapping her pink quill (which looked remarkably similar to the candied quills sold in the Hogsmeaded joke shop), that you haven't been here as long as some of the other professors. Hermione could see Harry grinning, enjoying this tete-a-tete with the two abbysmal adults, but she could not sink to his enjoyment. There was something about seeing Snape publicly defiled that made her queasy.   
  
  
Perhaps you did not inquire into some of the ages of my other colleagues, professor, he finished, an audible grind of his teeth. Umbridge looked flustered for only a second, her peurile demeanor souring. She turned and walked towards the end of the classroom, jostling Hermione's table as she waddled, and spilling over powdered scarab.   
  
  
Eight points, Granger, for being a nuisance and wasting materials, Snape leered. He stood expectantly in front of her, goading her predictable fury in the back of her head. She said nothing, but there was a glittering defeat in his eyes. Which, ironically, made him wage an ever more vicious batttle with the Gryffindor side of the classroom.   
  
  
Harry's hackles rose instantly ; Hermione could smell his bloodthirst. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and shook her hand gently. She knew Harry's quicksilver anger.  
  
  
Just let it be, she urged to him, under the pretense of scribbling into her notebook, don't bother him now. Not with Umbridge ready to pounce on you.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: worth continuing?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is completely not for profit, characters are all property of Jo Rowling, and while some of the scenarios may have been started by her, they are creatively embellished by me. Yeah, that and Warner Bros owns everything.   
  
  
  
He always does it, Hermione, and you always stick up for the bloody prats and fuckwhits, Harry hissed. Hermione was slightly scandalised, hearing the language that was issued forth, but she could hardly be surprised.   
  
  
It had even occured to her how much time she had spent rushing to other's defenses. And she had tried to overlook the fact that few included in that number were worth her time of day.   
  
  
Harry was still regarding her, his gaze leveling betwixt fury and disgust. She couldn't pretend that her sudden, and unfair protection of Snape had been a difference in maturity. She had suddenly felt, if not pity, than an empathy. And, eight points, when she glanced at the ruby filled counter, seemed very minimal in consideration of the points that Harry, Fred and George were losing amongst themselves.   
  
  
Harry, just because your father didn't like him, doesn't mean the grudge has to be continued, she snapped tiredly, gazing anxiously at the Charms homework that should have been started long before their hallway hissing had commenced. But Hermione hadn't heard the sting of her words, and neither had she seen Harry's abrupt pause in the hallway. His light steps (which had turned into heavy scuffles, recently), squeaked.   
  
  
She turned around, her mouth open to mention something about her missing Transfiguration text when she registered the surly fury on his face. Even his scar crinkled angrily, where he tried to contain himself.   
  
  
Harry, I'm sorry, I just meant you can't keep blowing up in Snape's face because you feel some kind of obligation towards your dad, she finished lamely. Her normally useful knowledge didn't extend itself into the field of tact. She had a hard time understanding, and avoiding Harry's soft spots. She felt stupid and exploitative for including his father.   
  
  
So you think you know what its like?, he asked her quietly, his anger had fled, but an insurmountable, and terrible look of disappointment had needled her, you think that I hate Snape only because of my father? Try understanding, Hermione, try joining the rest of us. They won't teach you that in a book.   
  
  
He slapped the text book out of her hand, its pages fluttering in indignation. The moving diagram which she had been glancing at, sputtered for a few seconds in gravitational chaos.   
  
  
Ron walked up slowly behind her, This is a royal mess, he said softly to her. He knelt down and picked up the book. She looked at him helplessly. As much as she loved both of them, she had been feeling much less of it lately. The second quasi harmony had been reached, another assault would occur.   
  
  
I didn't mean it, she said desperately, not to Ron in particular. One of the portraits snorted unpleasantly. Ron shrugged, tugging his robes from his ankles. Well, you had to say it eventually. You've got to admit, Hermione, that Snape really is a bastard to Harry though, he said in an unusual moment of lucidity.   
  
  
Of course I know that, she snapped, I just meant that he shouldn't feel like its a nepotism thing to keep on hating him. Snape's saved his life, Ron, and all Harrys done is blame him for He-Who....Voldemort's ressurection. Ron smiled deflatedly. Hermione sank to the ground, limply accepting the text book from Ron.   
  
  
So, why this Snape sympathy? Starting a new club?, he smirked. He jabbed her softly in the ribs and she laughed. The echoe sounded unerringly like a very reluctant accordion.   
  
  
We should head back for the tower, eh?, Ron said, his ginger hair in the direction of the dormitories. She nodded tiredly. The stone was making her rear end ache. She could tell Ron was worried about Harry's whereabouts. His tendency to wander into dangerous places in the midst of a tantrum was infamous.   
  
  
Why don't you go find him? He won't talk to me for at least the extent of our O.W.L's, she sighed. She wished that she could promise herself that she would be humbled enough to apologise, or at least that Harry would want to look at her at breakfast in the morning, but both were equally unlikely.   
  
  
Ron was long gone before she fully gathered her satchel and things about her. She stretched briefly, her arms flung high above her furious halo of curls.   
  
  
What the bloody hell is the point, she said scathingly to a suit of armor. A rusty shrug was her only reply. A group of nymphs in a painting tittered at her distress.   
  
  
She bent down, and stood upright again, when she saw the figure of Snape looking at her with mild reproach written on his face. She almost screamed and covered her breasts, utnil she realised she was neither naked, nor in a female-only zone.  
  
  
, he asked. Hermione hoped that her one eyebrow raised wouldn't be considered impudent.   
  
  
There was no tart reply on the tip of her tongue, and her head was strangely blank when she looked at him. She only felt a rather throbbing fury, as it really was his fault that Harry would probably never speak to her again, and that Ron was such a coward sometimes. And more than anything else, she would have dearly loved to tell him to wash his hair once in a while.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Thanks for the quick responses. This is not going to be a normal Snape/Granger romance. It won't build up to a steamy sex scene or any of that. I have yet to see what I want to do with this. And as for chaptering, well, it won't be a new addition everyday, so please be patient. Thanks again. 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
Hermione trudged back to the corridoor, knowing it wasn't the first time she dreaded returning to her homebase. Even the library had lost some of its spectacular appeal (albeit because she had a great volume of it already).   
  
  
And now, even Snape had trumped her. The only person left on her all time humilation list would be if Draco Malfoy would catch in her moment of weakness. She could just imagine his smug, gleaming little face as he taunted her. And it wouldn't help her resolve of non violence and house unity if he was aided by those two trolls.   
  
  
Everything was rubbing off nowadays. Her prefect badge was serving more as a burden between she and Harry, rather than an advantageous way to garner housepoints. The thing was like a sore thumb folded in her robes, and though Hermione had always known she would recieve it, she had never known that it would cause this much heart ache.   
  
  
She couldn't pretend that she hadn't seen the sullen expression of shock and anger when Ron had recieved his prefect reward. And she couldn't pretend that everyone else had been just as surprised as he, considering that Harry was hailed as such a hero. His grudging happiness for his friend disallowed him to say anything to anyone else, but Hermione, who radar for people's emotions was not particularly super sensitive, saw that there was an instant wall built between them.   
  
  
And, the more she dwelled on it, as she walked through the corridoors where the late afternoon light was swelling, the more of a recluse Harry had become. In fact, his resembelance of Sirius had grown to surprise her. Even the shaggy mane had grown grizzled on his head, and the dark circles of his eyes looked frenetic and gaunt. She knew that something had transpired in those Occulmency lessons, something that he had not yet confided in her. She wondered whether it was Harry who had upset Snape, or Snape who had upset Harry.   
  
  
The allies within Hogwarts, which Dumbledore had always promised would be safe, were thinning. Even the Headmaster himself seemed intolerably distant. The spectacles which were usually just perched above his nose, to give full scope of his eyes, now seemed resolutely shoved up to his eyebrows, as a warden against other prying gazes. She wanted to badly to tug on his robes as a child would, and cry into his quicksilver hair.   
  
  
McGonagall, who fondly reminded Hermione as a rather matronly fairy god mother, was often harshly silenced by Umbridge. She let another sigh escape her.   
  
  
Just the name of the woman could usher goosepimples of hatred beneath her   
skin. The sight of her enormously greedy eyes, and unsympathetic way in which she punished were reason enough to flee the school. And the voice which she used.....Hermione would rather blast herself in the stomach with Ron's defective wand than listen to her speak for longer than each class delegated.   
  
  
She mumbled the password to the fat lady, and stepped warily inside the small tunnel leading to the common room. A fifth year girl named Ramona looked up lazily from her reading.   
  
  
Hullo Hermione, she said softly. Hermione, suddenly sapped of energy, found that she could only nod in a friendly matter. She sat down heavily in one of the arm chairs. The girl began to read again.   
  
  
, she offered, gesturing towards a steaming pot. Hermione accepted, only because it would fill the portentous, and awful emptiness in her stomach. As soon as she sipped, a terrific drowsiness began to fill her. Her thoughts began, and ended abruptly; her head was lethargic, her vision swimming. She had never known such exhaustion.   
  
  
I'm going to have a lie down, she told Ramona, who nodded without glancing at her. Hermione attempted to grip one of the arm rests and rise, but without blinking an eye, crashed heavily to the floor, landing squarely on her cup.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Uh...this was a diversion......methinks I may know the way back to the path.....  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  
Hermione's face was being frantically fanned, and there were various cold compresses being applied.   
  
  
What's wrong? Why is she bleeding all over the place? How long was she out like that for?, several loud whispers were wafting above her head. Her eyelids felt too swollen to open, so Hermione was forced to be content with listening.   
  
  
She could tell she was not in her bed, and the faint, but tenacious odor of medicinal plants, she instantly deduced she was in the hospital wing. There was a cotton ball sensation in her mouth, and none of her joints felt as if they would cooperate if she attempted movement.   
  
  
What's happened? Was she poisoned?, Ron's strangled terror was clearly evident. Hermione almost smiled at the sound of his voice. There was a scuffle at the bedside.   
  
  
Weasely, I must please request that you refrain from mauling her, Madam Pomfrey's voice echoed above her hair. Hermione tried to swallow, but found that her tongue had adhered itself to the roof of her mouth. She panicked, choking and rasping.   
  
  
She was pulled up by either arm, her head sinking towards her chest, though Hermione could have sworn she had willed it to stay upright. A great whallop was delivered to her back, and her airways opened in surprise. Someone was holding her hair, and a cold china bowl was placed between her legs. Madam Pomfrey leaned Hermione's head closer towards the lip, and she slapped her repeatedly. Hermione tried to groan in protest, but she could only cough.   
  
  
Girl, if you can hear me, try to force up anything, Madam Pomfrey's voice was somewhere near her left ear, and Hermione had heard a distinct, pronounced panic. She kept coughing, her lungs wheezing and deflating. Hermione vomited violently once, and then collapsed backwards, a beady sweat had collected on her face.   
  
  
Good, good, Madam Pomfrey was now wiping her mouth, and legs, like a child. Hermione was left suprisingly weak by this exercise.  
  
  
Isn't there stuff you can give to induce vomiting?, Ron sounded disgusted and rather appalled,instead of hitting her like that?.   
  
  
Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue, Look, Weasley, if I don't know what's already in her, I can't give her an anecdote. You don't just go around dispensing potions, if she were to react badly, we'd be in an even worse mess than now.   
  
  
Hermione's mental eyebrows knitted. Why was this a mess? Why could no one decipher what was wrong with her? Her stomach convulsed again, and Madam Pomfrey's inescapable vision was ready.   
  
  
Oh, Miss Granger, what on earth did they do to you?, she said in a pained voice, as she hoisted Hermione up again, and placed the ever ready china bowl towards her face again.   
  
  
, Hermione mumbled. Her tongue still wasn't working properly, and there was still a distressing lack of saliva. Madam Pomfrey patted her head triumphantly, and Ron still lingered by bedside.   
  
  
My dear, if you can hear me, try and move your head, the healer instructed gently.   
  
  
, she moaned weakly. Hermione still couldn't open her eyes. She was hastily laid flat again.   
  
  
I still don't understand where all this bleeding is from, Madam Pomfrey said. Hermione could feel a warm trickle by her arm and her eyebrow.   
  
  
I think she must have fallen onto a tea cup, when she went out like that. There was all this shattered china around her chair and stuff, Ron offered hopefully.   
  
  
Well that is good news. If this were some kind of potion to make her bleed like that, we'd be finished. This should be easy to fix, Madam Pomfrey's voice once again gained that confident, superior tone which sounded like everything would be amicably solved, but whatever she ingested is beyond me. Weasley, go and fetch Professor Snape.   
  
  
The feeling that everything was going to be all right sank Hermione's heart once again. Her mother had always told her that bad luck comes in threes, and if this meant coming face to face with Snape three times in a day, well, then surely she was right.   
  
  
Snape, Madam Pomfrey?, Ron's voice quaked a bit, but you know he hates us, right?.   
  
  
Professor Snape, boy, and don't be ridiculous, she snapped, do you want to help your friend or not?.   
  
  
Hermione heard Ron's response in his footsteps that flew down the flagstones.   
  
  
You three are always in my ward. Do you put yourselves in rotation?, Madam Pomfrey was above Hermione's head again, reaching for something out of the cupboard. Hermione's eyes rolled into her head as she fell into a waking slumber again.   
  
  
Hermione, Hermione, come on, Snape's here....you've got to tell him what you drank, Ron was panicky again, rattling her arm. Hermione's slackened muscles in her neck caused her head to rock back and forth.   
  
  
There's no need to inflict further damage, Weasley, Snape's quiet voice drifted by her. She felt Ron's hands reluctantly leave her own. There was heavy breathing, and a sandalwood scent by her hair. She felt someone's hands open her eyelids, and a light flash briefly into both.   
  
  
You say, Poppy, that two students brought her in here, in this state, after finding her in the common room?, she heard his footsteps turn and face the healer, and you are certain it was something in her drink?.  
  
  
Well, the boy here says that when she fell, she landed on a teacup she was drinking out of. That explains the blood, but as for what she drank.....that' why you are here, the woman finished hesitatingly.   
  
  
Because her eyes are dilated, and her breath suggests essence of mugwort, I think that someone concocted an idiotic potion that limited the victim's movement, but not their senses. Only her eyelids seem to be not working, but from rapid movement of her eyes beneath, I conclude she's been following everything we've been saying, Snape finished haughtily, and she could just imagine his gloating expression, with his arms across his chest.   
  
  
She did try and speak earlier, but it appeared as if her tongue could not work properly. And before that, she had a brief coughing spell and vomited, Madam Pomfrey recounted this a calm, but expectant air.   
  
  
So you are aware of her half conscious state?, Snape sounded mildly put out, Weasley, was your head together enough to bring the fragmented cup?. There was a snarl at the end of his question.   
  
  
Silently, broken glass was exchanged. Because I can only guess what was in her drink, I will have to examine this (a small shake rattled the pieces), but the only remedy is to let her sleep it off, make sure a fever does not ensue, Snape said, his voice rather heavy. He sounded regretful.   
  
  
Thank you, Professor, Madam Pomfrey said automatically, but with some relief. Hermione heard Ron's dejected footsteps exit, and the healer move towards the front of the ward. Only Snape remained.   
  
  
Listen, Granger, I know you can hear me, and I know perfectly well who put that tea in the common room. If you can open your eyes, do it, his voice was much closer to her this time, and the current of his breath stirred her hair.   
  
  
She struggled for a few seconds, feeling unbelievably stupid and belittled under Snape's unrepentant stare. Her eyes could open only halfway, but everything came into syrupy, gradual focus.   
  
  
Snape dangled something in front of her face. She looked at it for a few seconds, and uttered a moan of despair and disgust.   
  
  
A piece of cloth that appeared as if it had been abruptly torn from the owner's clothing. It was offensively pink, and without a doubt, Umbridge's.   
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: nepotism- act of inheritance from father to son.  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
  
It was a few days until Hermione was in operable condition. Ron visited her without fail. Harry, however, managed only a brief appearance, a gruff hello, and a stiff hug. It was Ginny Weasley, in the end, who become the saving grace.   
  
  
He's been acting funny all week, that one, she whispered to Hermione, pointing at Harry as he retreated from the infirmary. Hermione sank back into her pillows, feeling, if possible, worse.   
  
  
We had a fight, right before this happened, she confessed. Ginny rolled her eyes, When aren't you two arguing?. She flicked her red hair over shoulder, and combed her robes for crumbs from the cakes she had snuck in.   
  
  
It was my fault this time, she said, Snape and Umbridge were having a bit of a tense moment, and when Umbridge knocked over some ingredients, and Snape docked points, Harry got angry for my sake, but I got angry at Harry. She said all this one breath, finally being relieved of the burden of not being able to speak.   
  
  
But why'd you stick up for Snape? He's a royal pain in the arse, she said sagely. Hermione shrugged, I just don't think we give him enough credit, and he is in the Order and all that. Besides, I was trying to save Harry from any further entanglement with her. And, the first day I fell ill, he showed me something really imporant.   
  
  
Hermione at the alarmed look on her friend's face, Nothing sexual you prat, he told me who put that poison in my tea. Ginny looked very impressed at her reviled teacher's show of chivalry, So who was it?.   
  
  
It was Umbridge, Hermione said, and Ginny let out a sharp squeal, Umbridge? Are both of you fools? She works for the ministry. Even she's not stupid enough to poison you under both McGonagall and Dumbledore's noses. She isn't that evil, Hermione, I'm sorry.  
  
  
Hermione listened to her discourse patiently, Yes, that's well and good, Gin, but Snape showed ocular proof that she did it. Ginny raised an eyebrow, and crossed her arms.   
  
  
Really? As if Umbridge would leave one of her silly ribbons just lying around in our common room, she said sarcastically. Hermione smiled a serene and beautific manner, Actually, Ginny Weasley, she did.   
  
  
There was a very satisfactory silence. Hermione crossed her arms, and gave a triumphant look to Ginny, who looked very appreciative of the fact there was a bed beneath her.   
  
  
You mean, Umbridge left a ribbon...a bright, pink piece of evidence, right in our common room?, Ginny whispered. Hermione nodded. But how can you be sure it was hers? I think bloody Lavender wears things like that all the time, Ginny said. I'm sure Snape wouldn't just go round accusing her, if he wasn't positive. He's in too vulnerable a position to spead things like that, and he doesn't want attention drawn to himself. After all, Fudge is breathing down half the faculty's necks, but even as she said this, Hermione knew she wasn't satisfied with her own rationlising.   
  
  
Ginny nodded, and glanced at the clock above Hermione's bed. I've Charms now, but I'll be up later. She gave Hermione a swift hug. When she was fully alone, Hermione dressed herself. She was weak, probably with hunger.   
  
  
Madam Pomfrey?, Hermione called, glancing behind all the curtains. There was a slight rustling coming from a desk that was behind a screen. The healer sat with her back towards her student, writing something in an official looking form.   
  
  
Madam Pomfrey?, Hermione asked gently, not wanting to startle her too badly. Oh, Miss Granger, up and ready to leave this place, I see?, she replied cheerfully, closing whatever she was writing, and covering it with her back.   
  
  
I'm quite hungry, I think that I should go to the dining hall and get something to eat, Hermione said truthfully. The woman nodded at her, an uneasiness in her eyes that unnerved Hermione. Is there something the matter?, she asked politely. The healer shook her head, and tittered harshly , No, no, I'm just rather upset that something as brutal as a poisoning has gone on within our walls.   
  
  
As long as Dumbledore is here, whoever did it is good as dead, Hermione said cheerfully, wishing she could feel as hopeful as she sounded. Madam Pomfrey nodded, and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder.   
  
  
Just be careful with yourself, dear. I know you are very fond of those two boys, but they cause far too much trouble for a young girl's mental well being, she said tiredly. Hermione didn't know whether responding with laughter would be considered polite, she so simply nodded.   
  
  
Er...Madam Pomfrey, might you have any idea where I could find Professor Snape, at the moment?, she asked, feeling a mildly ridiculous flush build up in her face. She put her fingers in her mouth, something that she would normally never do, and bit down on her nails.   
  
  
Well, its past lunch. I'm not familiar with his class schedule, I'm afraid that you will have to go to the dungeons yourself and see. My dear, are you checking up on late homework? I'm sure Professor Snape would already have alerted you of your missing assignments, Madam Pomfrey's face held a flickering, and ingratiating interest.   
  
  
Well, I just wanted to...thank him, I suppose, she said thoughtfully. Madam Pomfrey looked very impressed, I'm very happy that you have excellent manners, as well as intellect, Miss Granger.   
  
  
Hermione, who was absolutely malleable in the face of glowing praise, beamed.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I would like to extend very heartfelt gratitude to all my reviewers who took the time to read this. Thank you for giving me motivation.   
  
  
  
  



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